


Any Which Way

by smarshtastic



Series: Charity Fics [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyswap, Confessions, Desk Sex, Dubious Science, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: When Gabe comes to, his whole body feels wrong. Gabe looks down at his chest, then blinks. He raises his left arm and stares at the tattoo on his forearm - a familiar sight, certainly, but it’s not his tattoo.---An accident on a mission lands Gabe in someone else's skin.





	Any Which Way

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for twitter user [SleeplessCap](https://twitter.com/SleeplessCap), as a thank you for their donation to the [National Network of Abortion Funds](https://abortionfunds.org/about/). Check them out - they do amazing work!!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/smarshtastic), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/mcreyes), and [tumblr](https://www.wictorwictor.tumblr.com) ♥

The explosion sends Gabe flying backwards into a wall, where he lands with a heavy crunch. He feels McCree land somewhere next to him. Smoke fills the air, stinging the back of his throat. Without thinking twice, Gabe grabs McCree by the collar and hauls him towards the exit. He manages to get them through the reinforced steel door before it slams shut. Then he collapses.

=-=-=

When Gabe comes to, his whole body feels wrong. Not in a concussed and battered sort of way, just fundamentally _different_ in a way that Gabe cannot ever remember experiencing, even in the thick of the Soldier Enhancement Program. He slowly places his surroundings as an Overwatch infirmary. Gabe looks down at his chest, then blinks. He raises his left arm and stares at the tattoo on his forearm - a familiar sight, certainly, but it’s not _his_ tattoo.

“Good, you’re awake,” Angela says, bustling into Gabe’s line of sight. “How are you feeling, Jesse?”

Gabe looks up sharply.

“I’m not McCree,” Gabe says, but his voice comes out with an easy warmth that is not his own. Angela blinks at him. She leans forward and peers into Gabe’s eyes.

“You’re concussed,” Angela says. She’s frowning. “But not that concussed.”

“No, listen,” Gabe says. “I’m not McCree. I’m Reyes - Gabe Reyes.”

Angela’s frown deepens.

“Hold that thought,” she says and then walks quickly out of the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

As soon as she’s gone, Gabe looks down to take stock of his body - well, Jesse McCree’s body. Gabe is familiar with it inasmuch as he’s seen McCree in the locker rooms, in the gym, on missions - Blackwatch is a tight-knit crew, and there isn’t too much room for modesty when you’re dealing with life or death situations. But Gabe hasn’t let himself think about McCree’s body in any meaningful way because, if he let his mind wander, he’d have a very hard time staving off the crush that’s been brewing under the surface for years at this point.

But now, here he is, literally _inside of Jesse McCree’s body_. It’s perfectly absurd.

Angela bustles back into the room, looking slightly shell-shocked.

“Gabe - Jesse - Gabe?” Angela stops, shakes her head. “He said the same thing. You’re saying you’re Gabe and he’s saying he’s Jesse - I don’t understand.”

Even after several rounds of tests, nobody really understands what happened other than the obvious: somehow, Gabe and McCree had switched bodies. They’re both fully conscious of the swap. Aside from some injuries from the explosion, they’re both perfectly healthy.

It’s quite the conundrum.

After the usual biotics, Angela isn’t quite sure what to do. She doesn’t have any medical reason to keep them in the infirmary - at least not until she can figure out how to switch Gabe and McCree back. She dismisses them to their quarters and tells them she’ll keep them posted.

Gabe finds himself standing outside of the infirmary in McCree’s body, looking at McCree in his body. It’s so strange; even though he recognizes his own facial features, the way McCree is occupying his body, holding himself, is a dead giveaway that it’s _not_ actually Gabe in there.

“So,” McCree says in Gabe’s voice, but the cadence with which he speaks is all McCree. “This is weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Gabe says. McCree shuffles on the spot. “I guess we just wait and see what Dr. Ziegler says.”

“Angie’ll figure it out,” McCree says, nodding. Somehow, McCree manages to make Gabe’s features less severe.

“In the meantime, take care of my body,” Gabe says, half-joking, half-serious. “The US government paid a lot of money to get it to where it is today.”

“Yessir,” McCree says. He gives Gabe a lazy salute and a sly smile. It still manages to make Gabe’s heart flutter, even though it’s his own face he’s seeing. “Mine came cheap and I don’t take real good care of it, so feel free to treat it any which way.”

“I’ll feed it some vegetables for once,” Gabe says dryly.

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could _abuse_ it,” McCree says.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of it,” Gabe says.

“Likewise,” McCree promises. He smiles at Gabe, somehow soft and open all at once.

“Go get some rest, McCree,” Gabe says, attempting to put a little more of his gruff commanding voice into McCree’s. It doesn’t exactly work, but McCree seems to get the picture.

“Night, boss.”

“Good night, McCree.”

Gabe heads back to his own quarters, and has some difficulty circumventing the biometrics that normally keep his door locked. Fortunately, with McCree as his de facto second in command, it doesn’t lock him out entirely - he just has to use McCree’s access code.

When the door slides shut, Gabe automatically moves to strip out of his mission gear but stops once he gets a look at himself in the mirror, his hands on the hem of his shirt. It seems obvious now, but the realities of inhabiting McCree’s body are only just now occurring to him. Gabe swallows as he looks at his reflection.

Gabe looks at McCree all the time but he doesn’t really get to _look_ at him, not really, and maybe it’s his only chance. He lets his eyes rake down McCree’s body, taking in his broad shoulders and chest, his muscular arms and legs. After a moment, Gabe turns to look over his shoulder. He fills out the tac gear quite well. Gabe feels the heat rush to his face and he looks around guiltily, as if someone might be watching him.

That crush that Gabe normally vehemently denies bubbles back to the surface.

Gabe turns away from the mirror and tugs off the tac gear, putting it in a pile to return to McCree later. He pauses when he gets down to his undershirt and briefs, though.

There’s nothing in Blackwatch’s rather sparse rulebook for situations like this. Hell, there isn’t anything in Overwatch’s much, much lengthier rulebook for this.

Gabe is a professional. He can be professional about this.

He wiggles out of his briefs and drops his undershirt into the pile and steps quickly into his private bathroom, avoiding looking at his reflection as he passes. In the bathroom, Gabe turns the shower up hot and waits for steam to fog the mirror above the sink before he lets himself relax. He makes the mistake of looking down.

It’s not that Gabe hasn’t ever seen McCree naked before, it’s just that he’s never seen him… up close. Now, however, he’s confronted with McCree’s dick, thick even though he’s soft. The hair that trails down McCree’s chest and stomach is more dense around his dick, neatly groomed but by no means sparse. As Gabe stares, McCree’s cock gives an interested twitch.

“Oh, fuck,” Gabe says out loud. He can feel the blood rushing to his groin in spite of himself.

McCree said Gabe could treat his body any way he pleased, but Gabe has to think that he couldn’t have meant _this_. Gabe steps hurriedly into the shower, hoping the hot water will distract him. It almost does, at least until Gabe makes the mistake of soaping up. Gabe runs his hands the unfamiliar planes of skin, feeling the taut muscles underneath, and then his dick - _McCree’s_ dick twitches again.

Gabe drops his head to the tiled shower wall and tries to think unsexy thoughts. He fails miserably. His mind wanders. Gabe brings his hands up and runs his palms over his - _McCree’s_ chest, down over his abs, stopping just short at the tops of his thighs. He swallows thickly.

Ignoring the rapidly dwindling rational, sane part of his brain, Gabe takes McCree’s cock in his palm and gives it a small squeeze. Gabe sucks in his breath. He can feel the blood rushing to his dick, hardening quickly under his fingers. It’s familiar, in a way - Gabe has had plenty of erections in his life - but he’s acutely aware of all the ways McCree’s cock feels different in his palm than his own cock. He looks down, biting his lip. Gabe runs his finger along the thick vein that runs down the shaft, circles the tip, keeping his touch light, almost tentative. He wraps his hand around McCree’s dick and strokes him down. It makes Gabe shiver, so he does it again.

He’s hard, his dick curving up to his stomach. Gabe marvels at the girth of it, at how it feels in his palm. Bracing himself against the shower wall with his other hand, Gabe starts jerking himself - McCree? - off in earnest. Parts of him light up in a way that Gabe isn’t used to. It makes his toes curl against the wet tile of the shower.

He tries to slow down, draw it out, make it last. He wants to remember this - how it feels to touch McCree, how it feels to be in his body. Gabe presses his forehead back against the shower wall and looks down at his fist, at the tip of his cock as it peeks between his fingers. He rocks into his hand with a nudge of his hips, letting his mind run wild. He lets himself tap into those daydreams about McCree touching himself - the daydreams he used to deny himself. The picture of McCree’s hand around McCree’s cock is never going to leave him now.

Gabe fucks into his hand. He can’t help himself now. Heat curls in the pit of his stomach and the dark tip of McCree’s dick leaks a drop of come. He catches it with his thumb and brings it to his lips but tastes mostly water. Gabe imagines taking his dick in his mouth, down his throat, tasting McCree, feeling that girth stretch his lips. A moan escapes his mouth and the sound hits Gabe with such a force that his knees nearly give out; it’s McCree’s voice he hears, not his own, the moan soft and needy and Gabe lets another moan out just so he can hear it again.

“Fuck,” Gabe says, McCree’s voice breaking a little. He comes hard, dick pulsing in his hand, striping the shower wall with come. Gabe’s knees shake. He keeps stroking himself until it’s too much to bear and then he finally turns the shower off, having almost completely neglected to actually clean himself off.

He doesn’t sleep very much that night.

=-=-=

The next morning, Gabe wakes in a confused haze. It takes him a moment to place his surroundings, and why he feels so strange, but it all comes flooding back in a rush. Gabe rolls over and pulls the pillow over his head. Guilt rises like bile in the back of his throat.

Berating himself, Gabe drags himself out of bed. He knows what he has to do, but he doesn’t want to do it. He can’t imagine what McCree will think.

He gets dressed (his shirt is a bit tight across his chest - is McCree really that broad?) and heads down to his office. Frustratingly, there’s no updates from Angela. Gabe slumps down in his desk chair. He’s waffling on his decision, whether he wants to do this now, in McCree’s body, or later, in his own. There’s something appealing about not wearing his own face for this, though, so Gabe bites the bullet and sends a message to McCree.

> You free? Need to discuss something.
> 
> REYES | SENT 09:02AM 
> 
> Gabe sets the comm back on his desk and stares at it. Not a moment later, his comm pings.
> 
> Sure. Your office?
> 
> MCCREE | SENT 09:03AM
> 
> Yeah, whenever you’re available.
> 
> REYES | SENT 09:03AM
> 
> Be there in a sec.
> 
> MCCREE | SENT 09:03AM

Gabe drops his comm again and puts his head down on his desk, half-hoping for a drone strike or maybe some kind of pit to open up beneath his chair. But neither of those things happen. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on his door. Gabe lifts his head and straightens in his seat. He clears his throat.

“Come in,” Gabe says. The door slides open and his own body walks - no, _saunters_ into the room. McCree seems completely at ease in Gabe’s body and Gabe has to push that thought out of his mind.

“So this is still pretty weird, huh?” McCree says, flopping into his usual chair across the desk from Gabe. It’s strange to see his own body sprawled out like that.

“It is,” Gabe says, nodding. He hesitates.

“Angie says it’s temporary, at least,” McCree goes on. “Or she thinks it is. Would be pretty weird to be stuck like this.”

Gabe nods again. How does he broach this subject, exactly?

“Good thing it was you though,” McCree says. “And not like, I dunno, Genji or Edwards or someone. Or - hell, Shiga would probably do something like cut off all my hair just to mess with me. You wouldn’t do that.”

Gabe winces.

“About that,” Gabe says. McCree sits up a little straighter. Gabe does his best to maintain eye contact, even though it feels like he might burst into flames at any moment. “Last night, in the shower…” Gabe trails off. He clears his throat again. McCree’s face - _his_ face - is devoid of any expression. Gabe suddenly realizes why so many people are so intimidated by him. “I touched myself. I touched you, I mean. It was completely inappropriate, and as your commanding officer I should -”

“Hold on,” McCree says. He leans forward in his seat, dark eyes searching Gabe’s face. Gabe swallows thickly. “You touched yourself - like, you jerked off?”

Gabe feels the heat rush into his face. Maybe he will burst into flames after all. He nods.

“You jerked me off,” McCree says, almost thoughtfully. “How did it feel?”

Gabe blinks, taken aback.

“Different,” he says carefully, watching McCree’s face. He still can’t read his expression - his team must find this ridiculously infuriating. Does his face just not move that way?

“It felt different for me too,” McCree says. It takes a moment for Gabe to parse that statement and then he has to keep himself from boggling.

“I - What?”

“I said it felt different for me too. I mean, I’m in your body - so it stands to reason it ain’t gonna feel like it feels when I jerk myself off,” McCree says. Gabe doesn’t know what to say. McCree stands up and flattens his palms on the surface of Gabe’s desk, leaning forward. Gabe tilts his head back to look up at him. He can feel his heart pounding in his throat. “It felt good, knowing what you’d feel.”

Gabe is glad he’s sitting down because he’s sure he would topple over.

“You…?” Gabe asks, but trails off. He isn’t sure what he could possibly ask in this moment.

“Boss,” McCree says, his voice going low and almost sultry. “You know how long I’ve been trying to get in your pants?”

Gabe makes a small noise, his brain struggling to catch up with this turn of events. McCree leans down further and then his mouth is on Gabe’s. The angle is horrible but McCree is _kissing him_ and Gabe isn’t exactly sure how it ended up like this but he kisses him back, hungry for it. Another noise slips out of Gabe’s mouth.

McCree pulls away first, smirking with Gabe’s face in a way that only McCree could manage.

“Oh,” Gabe says. “You never said anything.”

“What was I gonna say, huh? You’re damned inscrutable.”

Gabe huffs out a little laugh. “Yeah, I think I get that now.”

McCree nods. He’s still leaning over the desk, scanning Gabe’s face.

“Can I kiss you again?” McCree asks, and Gabe is so thankful for how straightforward he always is.

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “I’d like that.”

McCree comes around the desk and nudges Gabe’s chair back so he can get in close. He takes Gabe’s face with both hands and kisses him, with more feeling this time, his lips parting against Gabe’s. Gabe tilts his head into it, letting his eyes slide closed. He brings his hands up to touch McCree’s waist, almost tentatively.

“You don’t need permission to touch yourself,” McCree says with a little breathless laugh. Gabe blinks then makes a face.

“It’s just…”

“It’s weird, yeah,” McCree says. “But if this is how I get you…”

Gabe swallows. He nods. He closes the gap between them and kisses McCree again, rising up out of his chair to push McCree back against the desk. McCree goes easily, looping his arms around Gabe’s shoulders. They kiss until they’re both breathless, practically gasping for air against each other’s mouths.

“Plus,” McCree says, dragging his mouth away for a moment. “I get to know what it feels like for you, after we switch back.”

Gabe shivers at the thought. He pulls McCree in again, kissing him deeply, running his hands up his back. McCree lets his own hands trail down Gabe’s spine and then he takes two fistfuls of ass in his hands. Gabe makes a surprised, breathless noise. McCree growls somewhere deep in his chest. He spins them around so Gabe’s back is to the desk, and then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting Gabe up and setting him on the edge of the desk. McCree nudges Gabe’s legs apart and steps in close. Gabe practically whimpers. McCree ducks his head to press his mouth just below Gabe’s ear, his breath hot and damp on Gabe’s skin.

“Gabe,” McCree breathes. “You feel incredible.”

Gabe clutches at him, tipping his head back to allow for better access to his throat. His fingers are pulling McCree’s shirt up at the back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. McCree eagerly kisses every inch of skin he can get to, his hands braced on the desk on either side of Gabe’s legs.

“Jesse,” Gabe says, dragging blunt nails down his back. It feels strange to say his name - Gabe only uses it but rarely - however, at this point, there isn’t much use for formality. “Want to - want to feel you -”

Jesse makes that sound deep in his chest again and Gabe pulls his head up for an increasingly sloppy kiss.

“Yeah? Fuck, Gabe, really?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Gabe wouldn’t be able to describe the next sequence of events with any reliability, but he finds himself bent over his desk, pants down, ass exposed, and Jesse running his hands over his bare skin. He pushes his hips back into Jesse’s hands.

“C’mon,” Gabe breathes, his cheek pressed against the top of his desk.

“I got you. Gonna make you feel good,” Jesse says. His voice is low, gravelly - it makes Gabe’s dick jump where it’s half-trapped in his pants. He feels Jesse’s hands on his cheeks, spreading him open. Jesse rips open a packet of lube and dribbles its contents over Gabe’s ass. He sucks in his breath through his teeth. He can’t believe this is actually happening.

One of Jesse’s fingers - his own finger, really - rubs over his hole, smearing the lube around before he presses against that pucker and sinks in to the second knuckle. Gabe nearly bucks off the desk at the sensation, but Jesse’s other hand keeps him pressed to the desk.

“God, fuck,” Jesse says. “I can’t imagine…”

“More, Jesse, don’t tease.”

Jesse huffs out a little laugh. “I’m just wondering what it’ll feel like when we switch back.”

Gabe shudders at the implication - that this won’t be the first and only time, that Jesse wants to do this again, that Jesse _anticipates_ doing it again. He could barely let himself hope that he’d have anything like this in the first place, it seems too good to be true to think of doing it again.

Jesse drags his finger slowly out of Gabe, letting the tip catch and pull on the rim before he adds another finger. It’s been a long time since Gabe bottomed for anyone, to be fair, but it still feels different than he remembers - whether due to the body he’s inhabiting or to the person he’s doing this with is up for debate. Jesse is slow, though, careful. Gabe gets the impression that Jesse is taking his time not just for Gabe’s benefit, but for his own. For Gabe’s part, he’s trying to stay focused on the feeling of Jesse’s fingers working in and out of him, stretching him open. He wants to remember it forever.

“Can I?” Jesse asks finally, leaning forward so his chest is pressed to Gabe’s back, his breath warm around Gabe’s ear. The tip of his cock brushes against his bare ass. Gabe tilts his hips back.

“You’d better,” Gabe says. Jesse laughs again.

“You got it, sweetheart,” Jesse says, and to hear those words in Gabe’s own voice makes him shiver.

Jesse drags his fingers out of Gabe again and replaces them with the tip of his cock. He rubs over Gabe’s ass and drizzles another packet of lube over them both (Gabe makes a mental note to ask about Jesse’s preparedness later). With one hand steadying Gabe’s hips, Jesse starts to ease his cock into Gabe, taking it slow. Gabe sucks in his breath and tries to relax. He’s both over eager and out of practice. Canting his hips back, Gabe squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on the feeling of Jesse stretching him open, a delicious slow burn.

“Fuck, Gabe,” Jesse says. With another nudge of his hips and he’s hips to ass with Gabe, the entire length of his cock buried inside him. Gabe clenches around Jesse and can’t help the gasp that falls from his mouth. Jesse pulls back a little and the press back, coming down to rest on one elbow above Gabe’s back. He makes a little sound somewhere between awe and disbelief. “Fuck, you’re - you’re big, Gabe. How does it feel?”

“Big,” Gabe manages to say. He swallows the little whimper that rises up in his throat. “You’re tight.”

“Fuck,” Jesse moans. He pulls back further this time and slides back home a little quicker. He does it again, then again, building an easy, steady rhythm. “This is so - you feel so good, Gabe.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, and this time he can’t help the whine that comes into his voice. “More.”

“Yessir,” Jesse says. Gabe can hear the smirk in his voice. He shoves his hips back, hoping Jesse will get he idea and _fuck_ him already.

Jesse pulls out, nearly all the way, just the tip holding Gabe open, and then thrusts in hard, making Gabe rock forward on his toes. He does it again, a sharp slap of skin on skin, and Gabe can practically feel his cock in his throat. Jesse hunches over him, one hand on the desk beside him and the other gripping Gabe’s hip so hard it’ll surely bruise. Gabe relishes the feeling though - the edge of pain to the pleasure of Jesse pounding relentlessly into him. He’s stretched open, his own cock leaking steadily into the fabric of his underwear where it’s still trapped, aching to be touched. Jesse shifts his stance just slightly and then his cock drives right into Gabe’s prostate and he cries out.

“Y-Yeah? You like that?”

“There, Jesse, please - more -”

Jesse takes direction beautifully, he always has. Now, he puts all of his effort into it, thrusting with startling precision into that sensitive spot inside Gabe that makes him shudder, his toes curl in his boots. He’s playing him as if he’s intimately familiar with his body - and he _is_ , Gabe realizes after the sparks subside from one particularly well-aimed thrust. It stands to reason that Jesse knows his own body. Even if someone else is inhabiting it, Jesse knows all the right buttons to hit.

“Touch me,” Gabe pants. “Jesse, I need - I _need_ -”

“I know, sweetheart,” Jesse says. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of Gabe’s neck. “You can take a little more, can’t you? You’re doin’ so good now.”

Gabe shudders. He nods wildly. Pushing back as best as he can, he hopes he’s making it as good for Jesse as it is for him. The promise of doing this _again_ , after they switch back, lingers in Gabe’s mind. He’ll know exactly how it feels, how to make Jesse unravel. The thought makes another drop of come leak into his underwear.

Without warning, Jesse lets go of Gabe’s hip and shoves his hand down the front of Gabe’s pants. His fingers circle the base of Gabe’s dick and tightens there. Gabe bucks against him.

“I got you, I got you,” Jesse murmurs into Gabe’s ear. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Gabe surrenders himself to it, going pliant under Jesse. It takes a couple of experimental thrusts but finally Jesse figures out the right rhythm; he strokes Gabe down in time to each thrust, his cock dragging out of Gabe deliberately, then thrusting nearly all the way in with a sharp snap of his hips.

Gabe isn’t going to last much longer. The noises that are coming out of his mouth can only be described as whimpers, his voice catching on each sharp jab of Jesse’s dick, going high when Jesse hits his prostate. He can feel his balls tightening as his orgasm pools hotly in his stomach.

He can feel Jesse shaking over him, his thrusts becoming shorter, sharper - Gabe recognizes his own orgasm building in each stroke of Jesse’s cock inside him.

“Can I…?” Jesse asks.

“It’s your body,” Gabe says between gasps. Jesse’s hips stutter and he laughs breathlessly.

“Fuck, Gabe, been wantin’ this forever,” Jesse says. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Please, Jesse, please - do it -”

“You first,” Jesse says, scraping his teeth over the skin at the back of Gabe’s neck. Gabe shudders violently. He’s close. He can feel it, teetering on the edge, Jesse’s short, sharp thrusts inching him closer and closer. Gabe pushes back to meet him, urging him faster, deeper, trying to get him where he needs him -

“Jesse!” Gabe cries out. He feels his dick twitch and pulse in Jesse’s hand. It feels like it goes on forever. Jesse makes a pleased, rumbling noise deep in his chest as he wrings every last drop of come from Gabe.

“Yeah,” Jesse gasps. “Yeah, fuck Gabe, you feel so fucking good -”

“Please,” Gabe whimpers. That does it. Jesse thrusts in to the hilt and Gabe can feel his dick twitch and then pulse, a flood of heat inside him. Jesse starts thrusting through it and Gabe can feel his come lean out of him, a dirty, sloppy mess.

Gabe presses his forehead to the surface of the desk, trying to catch his breath. Jesse slows then pulls away after a moment.

“You okay?” he asks roughly, still trying to catch his breath. Gabe turns his head so he can look over his shoulder at Jesse - it’s still somehow surprising to see himself, flushed, a curl clinging to his sweat-damp forehead.

“I’m good,” Gabe says. He kind of still can’t believe this sequence of events. Jesse grins and runs a hand through his hair.

“Can’t wait to see how that feels on the other side,” Jesse says. Gabe’s comm pings. He reaches for it automatically and see a message from Angela.

“Might not have to wait too long,” Gabe says. Jesse’s face lights up and Gabe finds himself returning the grin.


End file.
